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Every Tuesday at 8.45pm, I stand in the silent lane alone and bang my Le Creusets in support of a group of brave people who must never be forgotten; unsung martyrs who, through no fault of their own, have found themselves working at the very heart of a terrible unfolding disaster of an unprecedented scale…

In the late 80s I used to do standup at a Soho club called Raging Bull, run by the young Eddie Izzard. At half-time we shared our dressing room with male strippers from The Paul Raymond Carnival of Erotica. They would sit naked in their chairs, casually chatting and masturbating, but not for pleasure, merely…

‘Everyone will have the food they need,” declared Michael Gove to Andrew Marr last Sunday, denying both the lies of Project Fear and the hysterical, biased, ill-informed and suppressed research of his own department. On Tuesday, as the Commons camera drifted past Ken Clarke, I saw the Brexit cheerleader Iain Duncan Smith picking his nose…

How many small plastic toy egg casings could be hidden in, for example, a Michael Gove? And, if we knew this figure, and had an accurate idea of potential volunteer multiple plastic toy egg couriers, could we extrapolate from it the volume of goods that might be secretly transported, in this fashion, both in and…

I believe it was I who wrote in June 2017 in this very paper: “The secret Tory steering committee has always intended Boris Johnson to be leader of the party and Theresa May has only been put in place as a kind of palate cleanser, a nasty-tasting mouthwash that you swill around your gums before…